My first car: 1989 Lada Niva Cabriolet


An occasional series where the Drive team reminisce about the first car they ever owned.

My first real car was a 1989 Lada Niva Cabriolet, in red with a black vinyl roof, riding on a set of silver BWA alloy wheels.

I say real, as there is potentially a story about a dark blue Holden Camira that may have been purchased for $200 from a guy at Jooce Nightclub in Ringwood, in a transaction that involved no paperwork or signatures, just a fistful of lobsters, a jug of Carlton and a high five.

The fact the ‘1982 Wheels Car of the Year’ broke down the very next day was of secondary concern to the sober realisation that a Camira with no documentation, acquired from a guy in a Triple J t-shirt, could not be proven as mine and could very well, to this date, belong to someone else.

It was left where it stopped, on Reynolds Road in Templestowe, and was mysteriously gone less than 24 hours later. The $200 lesson was relegated to a story rarely told due to a lack of understanding of the Statute of Limitations in Victoria.

About 18 months later, however, a real purchase secured my first official registration with VicRoads, and the journey to lifelong Lada ownership began.

I am often asked where my interest in the Lada Niva came from, as fair minds are right to ask why an otherwise reasonably intelligent person, mildly obsessed with cars, would develop a fixation for a curious off-roader built in a country that had ceased to exist.

The answer, lodged deep in my subconscious, came from a strange TV show called Expedition Adam 84, which screened on the ABC in the early 1980s.

Dubbed into English from its native Czech, Návštěvníci (The Visitors), told the story of four time-travellers sent back to 1984 from the year 2484, to secure notebooks that would help the future society move the Earth’s continents to avoid a meteor strike. Yep.

The time machine in question, predating the iconic Delorean DMC12, was a colour-changing Lada Niva. Take that, BMW iX.

I don’t remember much about the show, but I remember the car. There was something about the stocky little 4×4 that I really liked, but wouldn’t realise until more than a decade later.

Coming home from uni one afternoon in 1995, I saw what would become my first car in the window of a car dealership on Malvern Road. What is now Beaurepairs was then MRC Motors (and subsequently South Yarra Garage, pictured below), and the sight of the front fascia of the Niva must have triggered a memory, as I had to stop for a closer look.

The bright red off-roader was unlike any other I had seen, as this was a convertible, and it was brilliant.

Converted in Port Melbourne by Peter Brock’s engineering firm, the Niva Cabrio was like the Suzuki offerings, maintaining a solid B-pillar and upper door-frame connection to the windscreen as a form of rigidity. The roof was wholly manual to remove or replace, and involved a series of channels and studs, as well as the car’s now-smaller boot lid as a mechanism to secure in place.

A Suzuki Sierra was one of the coolest cars you could drive in the mid ’90s, but this, to me, was just different enough to be better. Sitting on wide Pirelli Scorpion whitewall tyres, the Niva Cabrio was crying out for P-plates and a good time. I wanted it.

Sadly, my part-time job at Safeway and squirrelled-away holiday job savings couldn’t support the purchase, but at least I had a goal to work towards.

As the weeks passed, I intentionally caught the tram past the showroom each day, just to see if the car was still there. It sat for a while but then disappeared. Weeks became months and, although my immediate focus had gone, the bug never left.

Midway through 1996, I craved more vehicular freedom than driving mum’s Renault could provide and picked up a copy of the bible of the time, Auto Supermarket, and its off-road counterpart, 4X4 Trader.

I had resigned the convertible Niva to a place in time and was searching for an affordable Sierra (ideally a wide-wheel Samurai), but a Daihatsu Feroza would also be acceptable. The ’90s were a time.

I can’t remember which publication I found the ad placement in, but after a few weeks of searching for Suzukis, and even test-driving a Holden Drover, I couldn’t believe my eyes… Lada Niva Cabrio for sale.

It was at a Lada dealer in Fawkner, a proper packed lunch trip across town, but I had to get there immediately. Much cajoling of my father followed, and we saddled up the Fairlane to go and take a look.

It had been almost two years since I saw it on Malvern Road, but I knew it was the same car.

The car was now on regular steel rims and Russian rubber, but the dealer conveniently had a set of alloys he could fit to seal the deal, still wearing the whitewall Scorpions I had seen before.

There was only one issue. Despite all the hype I had created for this car in my mind, I had never driven it, and had no idea what I was getting myself into.

Launched in 1977, then basically left to evolve organically over time, the Niva is a full-time four-wheel drive, with integrated low-range gearing and even a central differential lock. The 1.6-litre carburetted engine was adapted from the 1972 Fiat 124, and offered just 60kW and 126Nm output.

What it lacked in performance it made up for in capability, the Niva taking the accolade for being the first mass-production ‘modern SUV’ with a monocoque chassis and coil spring suspension.

The seating position was awkward and challenging to adjust, with the hugely long gear shifter more ergonomically placed for the passenger; a carryover from a rather lacklustre right-hand-drive engineering program.

Rudimentary switches, basic dials and cheap vinyl trim were everywhere, but it was everything I wanted from my first car. It was unique and fun, and even in the grubby Fawkner workshop, exuded character – in my eyes at least.

It wasn’t as shiny as when I saw it those many months earlier, and the plastic rear window had faded in the sun, but a price (far more affordable than it had been in South Yarra) was agreed upon, and a full tank of fuel, a fuzzy dash mat, a replacement rear window, plus the Italian BWA 15-inch alloy wheels were negotiated into the deal.

Dad wasn’t convinced I was making a smart decision, but it was my decision to make and he wanted to get home, so a deposit was left and the car would be prepared and registered to be collected the following Saturday.

What followed was the longest week of my life, the excitement of the impending collection of my very own car eclipsing all the giddiest Christmas Eves combined. I remember barely being able to sign my name when I went to cut the bank cheque on the Friday afternoon.

The day arrived, the balance was paid, and I followed dad back home, still unable to fathom what I had achieved. Mum greeted us with a crisp new Melways and a fresh set of P-plates as a gift, and the first day of legitimate car ownership could not have been better.

I drove to pick up a friend who had dutifully created a new mix tape. We struggled to get the roof removed (lots of press studs) and drove in the crisp winter air to my girlfriend’s house, The Offspring banging away through the low-quality speakers (just two) in the doors.

Her father rolled his eyes, told me I was stupid for not buying a Corolla, and proceeded to tell me all the Lada jokes he knew, often creatively adapting existing Volvo and Skoda material for my contextual benefit. She said it was too cold to have the roof off and declined to come for a drive.

I didn’t care. The car was flawed, absolutely, but I loved it quite literally to death, driving it some 200,000km over the next 10 years until the engine seized due to a blown head gasket. Rather than fix it, I sold it (along with some other Ladas I had acquired along the way), a decision I regret to this day.

I’m on Niva number six now, and still keep an eye out for any Cabrios that might pop up for sale.

The convertible Nivas were rare to begin with, but are now positively unicornian due to attrition from rust and general degradation. But if I could experience that same thrill as when I first spotted the red Cabrio on Malvern Road again, I’d be there in a heartbeat!

The post My first car: 1989 Lada Niva Cabriolet appeared first on Drive.



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